


you were burned, you were about to burn, you’re still on fire.

by LittleDragonPrince



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Grief, Hallucinations, Mentions of Other Cast Members - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, also comfort, alternative universe, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDragonPrince/pseuds/LittleDragonPrince
Summary: Following the events at his laboratory, Lucas tries to find a comfortable routine, live a normal life, move on and start actually coping with his grief.  Getting along with his coworkers is only half the battle.Things are awkward - of course they are, you fucked up so bad, his subconscious would supply, you almost killed them - but… doable.[Takes place in an AU where Lucas receives the Temporal Chalice instead of the Philosopher's Stone, and makes it back to the Moonbase following everything.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> I HAVENT UPDATED MY PNAT FICS IN MONTHS BUT... I HAD TO WRITE THIS FIC YALL
> 
> ok so i need to talk a LOT about like, the reality that this fic takes place in, because what im posting is basically Fanfiction of a Fanfic. the chalice au, as i said in the summary, basically says Lucas got the chalice instead of the stone! the AU itself explores the idea that Lucretia and Maureen were a couple, with Lucas as their kind-of surrogate son (hence why, in this fic, Lucretia is kind to him even tho he broke the One Big BoB Rule). the AU also explores thrall, the magnus and lucas dynamic, and two variant endings - one good and one bad! this is good end, where lucas makes it safely back to the Moonbase to become a Pal (TM) of the BoB.
> 
> the actual AU Storyline Fic is being written by my amazing pal Lune (@umbrastaff on twitter)!! they'll be posting the real thing onto ao3 as soon as they get through the invitation process. its super great n it's been a blast creating this au w/ them!! i hope u can enjoy it.
> 
> additional warnings for this fic include:  
> mentions of disordered eating, but only cuz lucas is too grief-stricken to work up energy to eat. lots of self-loathing and gratuitous mentally ill headcanons. a smidgen of ableist language.
> 
> as always my experience w/ my own psychosis isnt the same as everyone elses. also this is like...magic psychosis...idk. let me project onto my faves in Peace My Dudes.

Lucas had been living back on the Moonbase for awhile, and the adjustment process was coming along… okay.  Definitely not better than anticipated, but certainly at least meeting the expectations.  The first two or three weeks had been  _ rough _ , for sure, as he refused to do anything but lay in the room provided for him by Lucretia and ruminate on his own grief and self-loathing.  He barely moved from his spot in his bed, furrowed beneath weighted blankets (the kind Lucretia knows he likes; she must have provided them special for his room upon his arrival) and not even able to cry.  Food was brought to his room, sometimes by Bureau of Balance employees, but usually by Lucretia herself, and then left untouched for a few days until he could work up the willpower to eat it.

Those weeks were sluggish and excruciatingly painful and he spent most of them half-dead, either sleeping too much or not enough (he honestly couldn’t remember which nowadays; a testament, perhaps, to his poor functioning at the time).  He didn’t think they would ever pass, but they did, and slowly he learned to stand on his own two feet – both literally and metaphorically.  He didn’t speak to anyone but Lucretia, at first, and only in hushed, apologetic tones, as if he was afraid to exist in a dangerous way.  He could leave his room to get food from the canteen, but never ate it around others.  Angus - the sweet kid, Gods only know how he ended up working with the Bureau - was the first person other than her to reach out to Lucas.  It was hard, at first - socializing.  Months spent locked in a bubble with only mirrors and his dead mother for company stunted his admittedly already poor social skills, making every conversation a battlefield to stumble through.

Even as he slowly learned to come out of his shell, he was reluctant for a  _ long time _ to talk to the three infamous Reclaimers who had rescued him from the Chalice.  He avoided them like the plague, eyes downcast whenever one of them happened to pass him by on the campus. Lucas faced his fear eventually - hell, he even apologized to Magnus for the awful things he had said and to Merle for the loss of his arm (though that wasn’t  _ directly  _ his fault) - and now had what could be considered a working relationship with the trio.  It was awkward -  _ of course it is, you fucked up so bad _ , his subconscious would supply,  _ you almost killed them - _ but… doable.

One thing was for certain: life here was better than life in the bubble.  If the things he had done in the bubble could even be considered  _ living.  _ Was it easy? No way.  But being able to lay in his bed at night, knowing for certain the next morning would be a  _ new one _ ; looking up and seeing the sky - pockmarked with stars, dark and deep and  _ real _ \- instead of the shimmering, semi-transparent membrane of the bubble; speaking with Lucretia again, about Maureen and new inventions and even petty things, like the weather - these were the parts of the Moonbase Lucas loved.  They made the pain and the awkwardness ( _ your fault your fault your fault  _ his brain ever-so-helpfully provided) worthwhile.

Despite his newfound bravery, which actually wasn’t so much  _ found _ as  _ painstakingly manufactured over the course of months _ , Lucas still prefered to spend most of his time in his laboratories.  The solitude was familiar and comfortable, the lack of social obligation a blessing.  That was where he found himself now, taking samples of soil and stone from the campus’s surface and refining from them different metals, such as platinum, manganese, and titanium.  It wasn’t necessarily a difficult process, but the furnace in the corner of the lab did make the whole room so hot he had to struggle to keep his lab-coat sleeves rolled to the elbows, back of his neck slick with sweat.  His arms felt damp and sticky and the sensory overload put him on edge already.  The work itself was familiar, though, and it seemed at first it would be a normal day.

He sifted some of the dirt sample for the third time, to make sure there was no contamination like litter or plant matter.  A task so tedious it was almost relaxing.  He was alone in his lab - he almost always was, not many people liked to spend time around all the strong-smelling chemicals or noisy machines - and focused intently on his work, when he heard an all-too-familiar voice.

_ “You can still save her, you know.” _

Lucas froze, every muscle in his body taut.  He was almost afraid to breathe, and the air sat tight and coiled in the back of his throat.

_ “I can still help you.” _

His knuckles went white around the sifter in his hands, the tension gathering in his chest and shoulders; the voice began again and he slammed his eyes shut because that was the sound of the  _ Chalice,  _ which whispered to him near constantly during those awful months in his lab with the relic.  The sound was an oppressive one, a heavy weight pushing against the back of his brain so hard it  _ hurt _ , it hollowed out his skull and echoed so loudly it was hard to hear much of anything else.

The Chalice was meant to be destroyed, though, the Reclaimers had said -

_ “They lied to you, _ ” the Chalice said, heady and dark, a low roar,  _ “Why would you trust them?   _ I’m  _ the only thing that can help you, you just need to find me.” _

Lucas was pacing now, a habit he always did when he was nervous or over-thinking or just needed to remind himself of the solid ground beneath his feet.  His work laid forgotten on the table, his hands gripping at whatever he could find purchase on - his sleeves, the front of his t-shirt, his hair, the skin of his exposed forearms - as he wandered around his lab anxiously.   _ I don’t want your help, _ he told the Chalice, and he wasn’t sure if the words were said aloud or not, but either way he got a reply.

_ “That’s not true, and you know it,”  _ the Chalice jeered, “ _ the same way you know you could have saved her, if you were just brave enough -” _

“Shut up,” and this Lucas  _ definitely _ said out loud, his vocal chords burned as the words were wrenched from his throat, “S-shut  _ up _ , you never helped me, all you did, all you did was  _ hurt people _ -”

_ “ _ You _ did that,”  _ the voice spat back, acrid enough to make him flinch,  _ “Don’t blame  _ me _ for your selfishness, your foolishness.”  _ And Lucas didn’t have a response to that, he just pressed a hand to his own mouth to hold back his sudden nausea.   _ “Together, though, if you just do what I say, we can bring your mom back forever this time.” _

Lucas had worked so hard to get here, to be  _ okay _ , at least sometimes - he couldn’t go back to the bubble.  He would never be able to work up the strength to leave a second time.  The Chalice had driven him to do terrible things, hurt innocent people,  _ kill somebody _ , take somebody away from their family the way his was taken from him.

(And it doesn’t matter if, technically, he had not killed Boyland intentionally, or with his own hands, it was still his  _ fault _ .  He couldn’t apologize to Boyland, or his husbands and wives, his children.  He could never be forgiven.)

_ “Still,”  _ the Chalice chimed in, cutting his self-loathing monologue short,  _ “you want to use me again.  You can’t resist, so stop torturing yourself.” _

“No,” he choked out, but he wasn’t entirely convinced he was telling the truth; the lab around him wavered dangerously and he felt his knees buckle beneath him.  His back pressed to the side of one of his many work-desks, he slid to the floor, tried to breathe through the tightness in his chest and see through the burning in his eyes.

_ “C’mon!”  _ its voice was almost cheerful, welcoming,  _ “It’ll be so easy, and the pain will finally stop.” _

Lucas threw his arms around his head, buried his face deep into his curled up knees to quell the panic rising through him like bile, hot and rotten.  He didn’t move, didn’t  _ want to, _ didn’t trust himself to leave this lab.  At least if he was here, he was far away from the relic, and everyone was safe. He was safe, Lucretia was safe, he couldn’t hurt anyone -

_ “Do it for  _ me,  _ Luc.” _

Lucas’s head shot up, because  _ that _ \- that was a different voice, one that was warm and silvery and intimate, he knew this voice  _ well _ , like the blood running through his veins, the creases in his palms, the rise and fall of his heaving lungs.  He was alone in his lab still, despite his frantic checking and some rational part of his mind reminding him that the Chalice was capable of  _ anything,  _ even pretending to be somebody else.

This logic wasn’t enough to quell the hysterical feeling overtaking him, however, and he called out into the empty lab, “Mom?”

_ “You can still fix things.  You can still save me.” _

His mother’s voice surrounded him, reverberating through his head, and he  _ knew _ , he knew she wasn’t actually here.  She couldn’t be.  “You’re not really her,” he declared, voice muffled by his knees and trembling, “She’s - she’s  _ dead. _ ”

_ “But you can  _ change _ that, Lucas,”  _ and the Chalice sounded like his mother still, but rougher, less - less  _ right _ , as if the façade was slipping,  _ “Don’t you want to help me?” _

Of course Lucas wanted to help his mother.  He wanted nothing more than to be able to save her and bring her back and have everything return to normal.  He wanted to live in his laboratory again, the one away from the Moonbase, and he wanted to talk to Lucretia without the pity in her eyes or the constant use of past tense when it came to topics involving their family.

The Chalice’s voice rang out again,  _ “Come find me then. Help me help you.” _

Lucas stood, despite his shaking, and made for the door of the lab - there was a rush of sound, as though the cup was cheering him on.  He reached out with quaking hands and, quickly, decisively, as if hesitation was a dangerous thing, bolted the lock shut.  The Chalice protested, but Lucas drowned it out, shaking his head to try to clear it.  He resolved not to leave this room, lest he stumble upon the Chalice and be taken over by the thrall again.  With this idea in his mind, Lucas lowered himself back onto the stool in front of his work-desk.  Focusing on the task at hand was difficult.  He was too rattled to pay much attention, or to even  _ attempt _ to work with the furnace, so instead he just sifted through the dirt samples over and over again until it was a fine dust, and even after that point.  He let the repetitive actions soothe his frayed nerves a little bit, though his fingers wouldn’t stop shaking, and every time the Chalice piped back up he recoiled in disgust.

The samples were becoming so fine, Lucas wasn’t sure he could continue with this process anymore.  He was delicately pouring the thin soil into a beaker and contemplating refining a second sample when there was a distinct  _ knock-knock _ from the direction of the door.  Lucas tensed in frustration - the Chalice was fucking with him again, trying to get his attention in a new way.  “Fuck off!” he snarled, wanting to believe his words would actually convince the relic to leave him alone for just a few hours.

“Jesus, fine…”

Lucas whipped around at the sound so quickly, he ended up spilling some of the sample onto the floor of the lab.  He cursed at the mess under his breath, but decided to deal with one problem at a time.  “Magnus?” he called out, because he’d recognize the Reclaimer’s voice anywhere, and from the sound of it, this was the  _ real _ deal, not the Chalice playing more mindgames.

“Uh, yes?” came the bemused reply, distant from behind the thick material of the laboratory door.  Lucas’s brow furrowed, and he walked hastily to the front of the room to slide the lock back out of place.  He opened the door - just a crack, enough to see through but not enough to allow anyone to enter (or leave) - to see one very confused and fairly miffed Magnus Burnsides.  In his hands were a bundle of papers; when Magnus noticed Lucas glaring at them intently, he explained, “Madam Director wanted me to deliver these to you.  Um, are you alright?”

The last bit shocked Lucas into glancing up at Magnus’s face, looking him in the eye for the first time.  There was a barely concealed look of concern there, mixed with the annoyance that Magnus typically felt when dealing with the scientist.

“Yeah,” he lied through his teeth, and at the raised brows of Magnus, he had a feeling it was obvious, “Well.  Uh. I’m not  _ great _ , if you really must know, but…”

“Okay, well,” Magnus cut him off, pressing one large hand against the front of the door as if to enter; Lucas tried his hardest not to noticeably react, “Can I just give you these? The Director said it was important.”

Knowing Lucretia, it was probably just some reports about the base’s overall functionality, or perhaps a request for some new study to be conducted.  Lucas wavered for a second, still reluctant to open the door any further than it was, but decided that this was Magnus, the Reclaimer - his entire job was resisting the thrall and defeating the relics.  He pulled the door open halfway, more than enough for Magnus to slip in through (though the look he was giving Lucas was too curious for comfort), and, as soon as the larger man had entered, slammed the door shut.  He slid the lock back into place, as well, just for his own peace of mind.

“Wow!  Okay,” Magnus laughed, though there wasn’t much humor to the sound; he mostly just sounded bewildered and a touch nervous, “Yeah, you definitely aren’t alright.  What’s up, dude?”

“I said I’m fine,” Lucas bit out.  Magnus just kept staring through him.  “What?”

“You actually just said you weren’t fine,  _ so,” _ and he drew out the last word, somehow both mocking and imploring.  Lucas was reminded why he didn’t get along too well with the fighter in the past.

“I’m fine!” he shot back, just a little too loud to be believable, and Magnus crossed his arms as if to say ‘ _ I can do this back and forth all day.’ _

“Just  _ tell me _ what’s going on and quit being stubborn.”

Lucas hesitated, unsure if he wanted to trust Magnus with the truth - that he was still being tempted by the relic, that he was still just as selfish and reckless as before - when the Chalice spoke again.   _ “Don’t say anything,” _ it demanded, and so Lucas blurted out “The Chalice is still here,” just to spite the blasted thing.

Magnus blinked - once, twice - before shaking his head.  “No,” he said, and Lucas was frustrated to find he couldn’t read his voice at all, “It’s  _ not _ ; we destroyed it, remember?”

Lucas  _ did _ remember.  He had tried using that logic at the start of this whole mess, but the Chalice’s voice hadn’t wavered.  “I can still,” he began, but the words got caught in his throat for a second.  Thankfully, Magnus chose to be patient for the first time in his life and let Lucas gather his thoughts without interruption, “It’s still talking to me.”

At that, Magnus did look genuinely surprised.  His eyes widened, and his face went slightly slack-jawed as he murmured, “Huh.”  Several beats of silence passed, as Lucas fidgeted in his spot, stewing in anxiety, and Magnus seemed to be deep in thought (another first).  “It’s,” he sighed, and he wasn’t looking at Lucas’s face anymore, instead honing in on his nervous, fluttering hands, “I’m willing to bet it’s not real.”

The words were not at all what Lucas was expecting, and all of his nervous movement stopped.  “What?”

“You’re hearing things,” Magnus elaborated, uncrossing his arms so he could gesture slightly as he spoke.  When Lucas just continued to stare, shellshocked and silent, Magnus heaved a great sigh.  “I-I don’t know if it’s like, a magic thing - that’s not my forte at all - but, maybe, I’unno, the thrall has some kind of after effect?”

And the explanation made sense, though the fear in Lucas screamed otherwise - as did the Chalice, which was speaking so hurriedly and aggressively Lucas couldn’t comprehend a single word.  He pressed one hand to his face, trying to swallow the headache and the panic and the just plain  _ confusion _ that came from trying to listen to two voices speak at once.  “It won’t shut up,” Lucas said, voice bitter. Magnus just continued to gaze at him, inquisitive look in his eyes.  Lucas forced himself to continue, “It keeps trying to tempt me to, to go find it and use it again and I don’t  _ want  _ to.”

Magnus’s expression changed from curious to sympathetic in just a few seconds flat.  He threaded his fingers through his facial hair, scratching at his face in thought.  “I know how shitty and freaky the thrall of this thing can be,” he said empathetically, and Lucas blinked in surprise.  He had forgotten the Chalice had tried to tempt the Reclaimers back at the lab, “But thankfully, as I said, it’s gone.  It can’t hurt anyone.”

Lucas let out a whine at that, gravelly and strangled - he was trying to speak, to rebut, prove that the Chalice wasn’t the threat,  _ he  _ was, but the words wouldn’t come.  Magnus raised his hands in placation, but his face was scrunched up with some emotion Lucas could not place.  When he opened his mouth to speak, Lucas expected an admonishment or insult; what Magnus said instead was, “Hey, it’s alright. Don’t panic.”

“It’s a bit hard  _ not _ to,” he snapped before he could really think about it - the Chalice was sneering at top volume, and the constant noise was wearing Lucas’s patience very thin. A flicker of frustration passed over Magnus’s face, but he breathed in noisily through his nose to steady his nerves.  Lucas could tell he was trying to be composed and helpful, as comforting as possible when talking to someone he didn’t really consider a ‘friend’ or even ‘friendly acquaintance’.  That was apart of his persona, from what Lucas could tell: helping and protecting others, being compassionate, never hurting the innocent.  From the stories Lucas had heard around the Moonbase about Magnus, this was the code he lived by, even if he did so in the most overbearing, slightly clumsy way.  Lucas wasn’t sure if this knowledge made his mood better or worse, but he did know his voice was still shaking when he said, “It won’t stop, and it  _ hurts, _ and I can’t - can’t  _ think,  _ I don’t want to use the fucking thing again, but I’m  _ going to _ -”

“No,” Magnus interrupted with a huff, “You can’t use it, it’s.”  Something in Lucas’s face must have given him pause, however, because he buried his teeth into his lower lip and took a second to think very seriously.  When he spoke again, it was soft, “Okay.  Well.  The Chalice isn’t in this room, so we’ll just hang out here.  No biggie.”

“Wh - we?”  Lucas asked, not quite believing what he had heard.  Magnus just nodded in reply, face furrowed back into that unreadable expression.  “Don’t be ridiculous, you have other things to do than sit in this lab with me.”

“You forget, Doctor Miller,” Magnus said, using his usual booming voice, the beginnings of a smile on his face.  Lucas had the distinct feeling he was being humored, but couldn’t find the energy to be offended.  “My whole  _ job _ is protecting people from the relics.  It’s, uh… kinda what I  _ do. _ So if I need to camp out in your shitty lab for an hour or two to get the job done,” he was full-blown grinning now, and, yeah, he was  _ definitely _ just doing this for Lucas’s sake, “So be it.”

Lucas almost wanted to argue against Magnus staying with him out of pride, but the Chalice was currently on some tangent about how Lucas was to blame for Maureen’s death, it was his selfishness that killed her, so he simply said, “Okay.”

Once Magnus had situated himself in a chair by one of the work-desks that was presently devoid of any experiments, Lucas started sweeping up the small amount of sample he had spilled.  It was tricky, given how thin and dust-like he had managed to make the dirt, but eventually the floor was almost as clean as it had been previously.  To make up for the sample he had lost, he did end up sifting a second batch, as he had been considering before the Reclaimer’s interruption.  The silence was immeasurably awkward - Lucas was reluctant to look at Magnus through anything but his periphery vision, and from what he could tell, he was fiddling with a whittled piece of wood and a small knife - but, somehow, it helped to ease Lucas’s troubled mind.  He worked with only a slight tremor in his hands, and the time passed slowly but not painfully.

As one hour, and then nearly two, went by, and his terror dimmed to just a jittery anxiety, a thought began to nag at Lucas.  He glanced, every once in awhile, at Magnus, who was still carving away at his chunk of wood.  It looked like… a duck? His brow was bunched up in concentration, his lips pressed thin with determination, and Lucas could spot the tip of his tongue peeking out from the corner of his mouth.  He didn’t  _ look _ put-off, but Lucas couldn’t tell, and the paranoia kept gnawing at him.  Every time the thought crept back up on him, he stole another look in Magnus’s direction; inevitably, their eyes met, and Lucas felt his face heat up with shame as Magnus raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Lucas inhaled deeply to steel his nerves, and asked, before he could chicken out; “You still don’t believe me about the Chalice being around the base, do you?”

With a deep sigh, Magnus placed his woodworking onto this desk.  His eyes were clouded with something - not sadness, but an emotion like it.  “No,” he said bluntly, though his voice was not accusatory, “I don’t. I know it’s gone.”

Acceptance, or maybe dread, settled into Lucas’s chest, heavy as a brick. “Alright…” He began to fiddle with his hands, twirling the worn-out buttons of his lab-coat sleeves between his fingers.  The quiet returned, but only for a minute or two, before Lucas spoke again.  “So you think I’m crazy, right?”

Magnus’s carving knife made a gentle clattering noise as he set it down a second time.  His mouth was downturned in a confused frown, but Lucas could see clearly now the pity in his eyes.  He seemed bothered by something, and unsure of what to say, but eventually he answered Lucas.

“No, dude.  Why would I?” Magnus’s face was kind and earnest; Lucas understood why he had such a reputation on the Moonbase, “This shit? Not your fault.  You aren’t a bad person - well,” he paused for effect, exaggeratedly thoughtful expression in place.  Lucas wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh, reach over and punch Magnus, or both.  He settled for huffing indignantly under his breath; Magnus’s façade broke with a smirk.  “You  _ may or may not _ be a bad person, but hearing voices that aren’t there definitely isn’t one of the deciding factors.”

“Okay…” Lucas’s hands fell into his lap limply.  It wasn’t the answer he was expecting, but the relief was palpable.  “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Magnus said, with a tiny smile and a dip of the head.  The laboratory lapsed back into silence for the rest of the time Magnus kept Lucas company, but the awkwardness had almost melted away entirely.  When he did eventually leave, citing some prior arrangement with Carey and Killian in the training arena, Lucas let the door slide shut quietly and didn't bother to lock it.  He had a feeling Magnus would be stopping by again, sooner rather than later.

He was genuinely surprised to find he didn't mind that idea at all.

**Author's Note:**

> this will VERY LIKELY get a second chapter to it but for now i'm labelling it done and y'all can have it as is. i'm the master of oneshots and not fulfilling promises and dumbass niche fic. thats my specialty.
> 
> as always, thanks 4 reading !!! ✌️✨ let me know what u think in the comments, love u lads


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